


Table For Two

by Jacie



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Reality, Big Bang Challenge, Escort Service, Hotels, Investigations, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacie/pseuds/Jacie
Summary: While Gibbs and his team (Stan and Vivian, with Tim on TAD) are investigating two similar murders, they find that the victims have more in common than being Marines. They are both clients of a male escort named Tony DiNozzo. After a third victim is found, Gibbs goes undercover as a Marine client of Tony's in hopes of catching the serial killer.





	1. The Man On The Ninth Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Contains minor/mild sexual situations.
> 
> Written for the **[2016 NCIS Big Bang](http://ncis-bang.livejournal.com/)**
> 
> Many thanks to Rose Malmaison for beta duties. As always, I have tinkered with it since she's seen it, so any remaining errors are mine alone.
> 
> Also many thanks to Rose Malmaison for the **[wonderful artwork](http://rose-malmaison.livejournal.com/147407.html)** that accompanies the story.

Gibbs stared at his bourbon. Three wives. Gone. Scanning his basement, he looked over his familiar tools, the workbench and the half-built boat. Although he heard footsteps on the stairs, he didn’t bother to look up. He really didn’t care who it was barging into his self-loathing pity party.

Fornell shook his head. “Jethro, you can’t just sit down here and drink yourself to death.”

Gibbs tipped his glass again before he answered. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You have work to do.”

Gibbs snorted and sipped from his glass again.

“I brought food,” Fornell offered.

“Why?”

“Because you need to eat. And you can’t eat Chinese carryout every night. That stuff will kill you. Sooner or later. And really, if that’s your ultimate goal, a gun would be faster.”

Gibbs’ eyes immediately met with Fornell’s. 

Fornell raised his brows. “That bad? Are you talking to someone?”

“I’m talking to you,” Gibbs snapped.

“Are you going to make me say it? You need help, Jethro.”

“Help?”

“You need someone to help you sort out whatever it is in your life that needs sorting out.”

Gibbs finished off his drink and slammed the empty glass down onto his workbench. “My life does not need sorting out. What’s for dinner?” he asked gruffly.

“Spaghetti and meatballs.”

After passing Fornell on the stairs, Gibbs walked into his dining room to find the table was already set. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough. Pasta should be just about ready.”

The pair ate in relative silence until Gibbs ventured to ask, “How’s Emily?”

“As fiery as her mother. She seems to grow by the day.”

“Kids tend to do that.”

“The only bad thing about Emily is that I have to see Diane when I pick her up.”

Gibbs shrugged. “In a few years, she’ll be driving herself and going off to college.”

“That’s true. But for now it’s torture.”

Gibbs smiled. “I know how Diane is.”

“Yeah? You want to marry her again?”

“No way. I had enough the first time around.”

“I’m stuck with both alimony and child support until she remarries.”

“Maybe you’d like to marry Rebecca or Stephanie? I have two alimonies to support. Or I will, once this divorce is finalized.”

“No thanks, and you’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“If I hadn’t married Diane, you’d have three alimonies to pay.”

Having finished the food on his plate, Gibbs pushed back in his chair. He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know why it never works out.”

Fornell stood and picked up the silverware and plates from the table. As he walked back to the kitchen, he called, “Because you’re a workaholic bastard who spends all his free time in his basement drinking bourbon and building a boat.”

“Hey, I take care of the yard and the truck, too.”

“I know how you are when you’re on a case. It’s all you focus on. That, and your basement projects.”

“The woodworking settles my mind. My job matters. What I do at NCIS is important.”

“Relationships are important, too. If you’re going to be married, you need to put a little effort into it. If you don’t want to be married, then hire a hooker or something.”

Gibbs began laughing. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? I’ve heard they’re great listeners, will take care of your sexual needs, and then they walk away. No guilt, no baggage.”

“Two alimonies, no money.”

“They do want money. That is true. But they still may be cheaper than a wife. Or you could come to the bar with me. Be my wingman.”

“I don’t think so, Tobias.”

“Well, I think you need to do something.”

“Why?”

“Do I really have to say it? You’re getting a reputation around town. And it’s not a good one.”

“Yeah? What sort of a reputation?”

“People say you’re a loose cannon and a drunk. People are taking bets on you going postal and shooting something up.”

“Shooting what up?”

“I don’t know. Work, a crime scene. Something.”

“Tell _people_ they should mind their own business. I’m fine. My team has the best closure rate at NCIS. And I have a drawer full of medals recognizing my outstanding service.”

“And all the local cops cringe when they see you set foot on a crime scene.”

Standing up, Gibbs stared back at the FBI agent. “That’s their own damned problem.”

Fornell followed Gibbs back down to the basement and watched as his friend broke open another bottle of bourbon. Reaching for a second mason jar, Gibbs dumped out the contents and wiped the glass with a towel before splashing a bit of bourbon in the bottom, and handing it to Fornell.

“Did someone send you here to talk to me?” Gibbs asked.

“Director Morrow. He’s worried about you. People are concerned about you.”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “I’m fine,” he said, before tipping the glass and sipping the amber liquid.

Fornell took a swig from his own glass and swallowed. “No, you’re not.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

Gibbs was the first of his team to arrive at the office the next morning. He never slept well, but a little coffee went a long way with him, and his favorite coffee shop always quickly prepared his favorite brew when they saw him entering the store. Between the time he hit the front door and the counter, his order was always ready to go. It occurred to him that he wasn’t their only regular, but must be one of their best. Or perhaps they didn’t like his surly attitude when he was made to wait, so they did their best to get him out of the place as soon as possible. The more he thought about it, he considered that was the most likely reason.

He didn’t care. As long as he got his coffee hot, strong and fast, he was satisfied. Satisfied? Even getting hot, strong coffee fast really didn’t make him happy. Just satisfied. He sighed deeply. He wasn’t sure that he needed help, but maybe he did need _something_.

Stan walked quickly across the office to his desk and dropped his pack as he took his seat. “Good Morning, Boss.”

Gibbs raised his eyes to his senior field agent and nodded in his direction. “Morning,” he grunted.

They both eyed the empty desk across from Stan’s. Their probie, Vivian Blackadder, was late again.

Gibbs read through the first two reports from the stack on his desk. Stan worked quietly across from him. Vivian finally showed up forty-five minutes later. Before she sat down, Gibbs’ phone rang.

“Let’s roll,” he said before chugging the rest of his coffee and tossing the empty cup into the trash.

Vivian rolled her eyes as she and Stan grabbed their packs and joined Gibbs in the elevator. “Consider yourself reprimanded for tardiness, Blackadder. If you can’t get to work on time, I’ll see that you’re off my team.”

“I can’t control the traffic,” she whined.

“You can leave earlier. Steve and I manage to make it here on time every day.” 

“It’s Stan, Boss,” Stan reminded him.

“What did I say?”

“You called me Steve, again.”

“Hmmm. Think of it as a nickname.”

“I’m considering asking them to change my badge to match,” Stan joked as they left the building.

~*~*~*~*~ 

As usual, Gibbs drove with Stan riding shotgun and Vivian sitting between them. She’d learned that her complaints about Gibbs’ driving just went ignored, so she crossed her arms and kept her mouth shut. Considering she’d already pissed Gibbs off, she knew it was best to speak as little as possible for a while.

“What’s the case, Boss?” Stan asked.

“Metro police found a dead body they’ve ID’d as a Marine.”

“Did they say how he died?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.” Stan nodded, knowing he wasn’t likely to get anything more from Gibbs.

After driving through the morning traffic, Gibbs pulled the MCRT truck up behind a couple of squad cars parked in front of a ritzy hotel. 

Stan let out a long, low whistle. “We don’t find many Marines staying at the Grand Cheshire Hotel.”

After parking, Gibbs donned his NCIS jacket and cap, then went to find the policemen in charge of the scene. Walking into the building, he flashed his badge at the front desk. “Special Agents Gibbs, Burley and Blackadder, NCIS. Metro police called us about a dead Marine. What room is he in?”

“There’s been a slight mistake,” the hotel manager said, keeping his voice quiet. 

“There’s no dead body?” asked Gibbs, not caring who heard him.

The manager looked horrified as a couple guests glanced in his direction. “No, no. There is no body in this hotel,” he said firmly, as he waved Gibbs toward a hallway. “If you could come with me, sir, we will get this misunderstanding cleared up right away.”

“We got a call. There are two squad cars out front. This is the address we were given. We were told there was a dead body.”

The hotel manager led the way down a long corridor to the offices. “I hope you can understand. We have a reputation and guests to think of.”

“I hope you understand that I have a crime to investigate,” Gibbs said sternly.

“Yes, of course. The body was found in the alleyway, _behind_ the hotel. There’s a door through the kitchen, unless you’d like to walk around.”

“Which is shorter?”

“Through the kitchen. There’s a back door that the kitchen staff uses.”

Gibbs and his team followed the manager through the kitchen to the back door and out into the alleyway, where they found four officers and two detectives, watching over a body in a small area that was surrounded by crime tape.

Stan thanked the hotel manager, and stood next to Gibbs as they surveyed the scene. 

Gibbs flashed his badge again. “Special Agents Gibbs, Burley and Blackadder from NCIS. Who’s in charge?”

One of the detectives waved his hand and offered it to Gibbs. “Detective Turner. Looks like a homicide. We pulled his ID and saw that he was a Marine. The case is yours if you want it.”

“I appreciate the call. If the ID is correct, we will take the case,” said Gibbs. “Stan, bag the IDs for Abby.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

“We didn’t get very far,” the detective continued, “but it looks like he was stabbed in the gut out here in the alleyway.”

“Thank you, Detective. I’ll let my ME take a look when he gets here.”

“I’m going to go back to the precinct, but we’ll leave the officers to keep the bystanders out of your way. The hotel manager has been helpful in past investigations, as long as you keep them out of his lobby.”

“Helpful? How?”

“He’s a pretty astute guy. Keeps an eye on things. He can tell you who was around and can usually give you some names of patrons and employees who may have seen something. Can’t say about his guests, but he’s always told his employees to cooperate with us fully.”

“Do a lot of crimes happen around here?”

The detective shrugged. “No more than other places. Mostly minor crimes, such as pick pockets in the bar or muggings out front. There have been a couple carjackings down the street, and a dead prostitute was dumped back here a couple months ago.”

“Many murders in the area?”

“Not usually. We’ve had a couple other calls recently, but those turned out to be natural causes.”

Gibbs glanced back at the body. “I don’t think this was natural. Did you find the knife?”

“No. Just the body.”

“Who called the police?”

“The hotel manager. Apparently the hotel staff enters through this rear door. One of the cooks spotted our victim when he arrived this morning and asked the hotel manager to call it in. Said he thought it was a sleeping bum until he saw the blood.”

“Where is the cook?”

“In the kitchen. He’s not going anywhere, but they said they still had food to prep and customers to serve. The chef said he would make the cook available for questioning when you’re ready for him. The hotel manager will offer a conference room for questioning.”

Gibbs nodded. 

A minute later, Ducky and Gerald arrived, driving their van down the alleyway as close as they could get to the crime scene.

“Who do we have here?” Ducky asked as he stepped up to the body and snapped on his latex gloves.

“According to the ID, this is Marine Staff Sergeant Marcus Mosby,” said Stan, as he stood close to the victim, sketching the scene. 

Kneeling beside the body, Ducky pushed back the Sergeant’s clothing and inserted the liver probe. “He’s only been dead for a few hours, Jethro. He met his fate sometime between one and three this morning.”

“Single stab wound?” asked Gibbs, as he knelt down beside Ducky.

“It looks like three wounds. Here, here and here. There’s some light bruising, but the likely cause of death was exsanguination.”

“He bled out from the wounds?”

“Most likely. I will give you a full report after I get him back to autopsy and get better acquainted with the deceased.”

“I know you will, Duck.”

Gibbs left Stan and Vivian to gather evidence while he tracked down the hotel manager. “Was Staff Sergeant Mosby a regular here?” Gibbs asked, notepad in hand.

The manager nodded slowly. “I’ve seen him around a few times, in the restaurant and bar. I think he’s friends with one of our permanent residents.”

“Permanent residents?”

“Yes. Although we have guests during the week, many rooms go empty. We get more overall renting at weekly or monthly rates and ensuring the rooms are in use every day.”

“Okay. What’s the name of this permanent resident?”

“He’s registered as Anthony DiNozzo. Goes by Tony. Nice guy.”

“What does Mr. DiNozzo do for a living?”

“I don’t really know. He pays his bill on time and I don’t ask questions.”

“Where can I find Mr. DiNozzo?”

“He’s probably up in his room.”

“Which is?”

“Nine twenty-seven.”

Gibbs jotted the name and number down in his notepad. “And the cook who found the body. What is his name?”

“Carlos Perez.”

“When does his shift end?”

“After lunch. About two o’clock.”

Twisting his wrist, Gibbs glanced at his watch. He had plenty of time. “Thank you.” Turning sharply, Gibbs walked to the end of the hallway and located the elevator. 

A couple minutes later, he found himself outside room nine twenty-seven and pounded loudly on the door. 

Initially there was no answer, so he waited a few seconds, then pounded harder. “NCIS,” he called loudly. After his third round of pounding, he heard something stirring within the room.

The door cracked open just enough that he could see one sleepy eye peering out at him. “Who are you?” the man asked groggily.

Gibbs flashed his badge. “Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Do you know Staff Sergeant Marcus Mosby?”

“Marcus? Yeah, I do know Marcus.”

“Did you see him last night?”

“Yeah. We had dinner and hung out for a while.”

“I need to ask you some questions, Mr. DiNozzo. Do you mind if I come in?”

“Okay,” said Tony as he pushed the door closed to disengage the security lock, before opening the door wide. “Come on in, Agent. I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Gibbs.” With the door fully opened, Gibbs could see Tony was in a robe, his hair sticking up at odd angles. Tony adjusted his robe when he realized the front was hanging open. Gibbs noticed the man wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

“I was sleeping,” Tony mentioned as he motioned for Gibbs to follow him into the room. Despite dark circles under his eyes, betraying his exhaustion, he was an extremely good looking man, with green eyes that sparkled. Gibbs guessed he must be in his late twenties or early thirties.

They walked past a very compact kitchen, a closet and a bathroom, into a living room area, complete with a sofa, an upholstered chair, a television, and a table with four chairs. Gibbs eyed another door at the end of the room.

“Is the bedroom through there?” he asked, indicating the door.

Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair and stifled a yawn before he replied. “Yeah. I’ve got a great jetted tub in the room if you want to check it out. You can watch television from the tub. It’s great. There’s also a full bathroom, with a shower.”

“And you live here? The manager said you are a permanent resident.”

“Yeah, I do live here.”

“Why a hotel? Why not an apartment?”

“Are you in the market?”

“No, Mr. DiNozzo. I’m conducting an investigation. How that works is, I ask questions, and you answer them truthfully, without embellishment or attitude.”

“It’s reasonable and has a lot of perks. There’s a great bar and restaurant downstairs, maid service, a doorman, a parking garage, valet service and a nice lobby to meet with clients.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Am I in trouble Agent Gibbs? Am I under investigation?”

“Not at the moment. We are investigating Staff Sergeant Marcus Mosby.”

“He’s in trouble?”

“He’s dead. He was murdered last night.”

Tony blinked rapidly and staggered for the couch as his knees buckled. “What? When? Oh my God! I can’t believe he’s dead. He was just here. How did he die? How?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll ask the questions for now.”

Panic tinted his voice as he asked, “Am I a suspect?”

“Not at the moment. I asked what you did for a living, Mr. DiNozzo. I’m still waiting for an answer.” When Tony failed to respond, Gibbs continued, “We can do this here, or you can get dressed and come back to NCIS headquarters with me, and I can question you there.”

“Okay, look,” pausing, Tony took a deep breath to calm himself and settle his nerves. “Marcus was a client.”

“A client? What sort of business are you in?” 

“Please, have a seat,” Tony suggested as he waved toward the upholstered chair and waited for his guest to sit down. “I am many things, Agent Gibbs.”

Gibbs tapped his pen against his notepad. “Care to share some of the services you offer? Let’s start with why you were with the Staff Sergeant last night.”

“He comes to talk, mostly. And last night, we had dinner.”

“What time did he leave?”

“Around two o’clock.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. “That’s a late dinner.”

“He came up here afterward. We had a couple drinks and talked.”

“Did you notice anything odd about him?”

“Odd?”

“Was he nervous? Did he mention any problems he was having lately? Something that may have gotten him killed?”

“No, not really.”

“What did you talk about?”

Tony shrugged. “Guy stuff.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“We talked about sports, and his wife and kids.”

“Did he seem stressed?”

“No more than usual.”

“Do you see him fairly often?” Gibbs asked as he jotted notes onto his pad.

“Every other week. Usually.”

“You said he was a client. I’m still not clear on what you do, exactly.”

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I don’t want to make things worse for Marcus.”

“He’s dead. It isn’t going to get much worse for him.”

Tony dropped his eyes and picked at a cuticle. “I’m an escort.”

“An escort?”

“Yes. I’m discreet about it and bring clients to the bar and restaurant. We spend money here, so the hotel looks the other way.”

“What would Staff Sergeant Mosby need with an escort?”

“I think that may fall into what you consider don’t ask, don’t tell.”

Narrowing his eyes, Gibbs stared back at Tony. “You’re saying he was gay? You just said he was married with children.”

“He is. They married young. He was expected to. They have a son and a daughter, both in high school. He said his wife wasn’t interested in him sexually any more. And then he realized that he preferred men anyway.”

“Did you and he have sex last night?”

Tony swallowed deeply and nodded. “Yeah.”

Gibbs’ eyes immediately dropped to his notepad. “You said he left around two. Did you escort him downstairs?”

“No. I wasn’t dressed and he was going home. He knows the way out.”

“Did he say anything before he left?”

“He said he’d call me in a couple of weeks.”

“Does he have a set appointment with you?”

“No. He calls when he wants to see me. The days and times may change.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Two or three years. I don’t remember exactly.”

“You don’t keep a written schedule of your appointments?”

“Not that far back.” Tapping his forefinger against his temple, he added, “I keep the important information up here. I can tell you he usually calls every couple weeks and he hands over the money without ever trying to negotiate a better rate.”

“Do you ever see him outside of the hotel?”

“Sometimes. He gets tickets to basketball or baseball and sometimes he invites me along.”

“Is it a good idea to mix business and pleasure?”

Tony flashed a brilliant smile. “But his pleasure is my business. He paid for my time, Agent Gibbs, regardless of what we were doing.”

Standing up, Gibbs asked, “If I need to question you further, what’s the best way for me to get hold of you?”

Tony reached over to an end table and pulled a business card out of the drawer. After he handed it over, Gibbs stared at the card. There was a photo of Tony looking very debonair in a designer suit. “Tony Del Gato?”

“It’s like a stage name.”

“Is Anthony DiNozzo your real name?”

“Yeah.”

“If I need anything else, I will give you a call, Mr. DiNozzo.”

“Tony.”

“What?”

“I prefer to be called Tony. When you say Mr. DiNozzo, I look around for my dad. And that’s not a good memory for me.”

“No?”

“He disowned me years ago.”

“For being an escort?”

“No. He wasn’t at all happy when I went to college on an athletic scholarship. And he was really pissed when I blew out my knee and decided to go into acting instead of business. He disowned me because he didn’t want me to become an actor.”

“Does he know you’re an escort?”

“No. He thinks I’m still an actor. I pretend I can afford this place on an actor’s salary and he continues to ignore me and tell people that I’m wasting my life.”

Gibbs nodded and left the room. Taking the elevator back down to the lobby, he found his way to the kitchen to question the cook, but his mind kept drifting back to Tony.


	2. One Man’s Escort…Is Another Man’s Escort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After questioning the cook, Gibbs rejoined his team in the alleyway. Ducky and Gerald were just loading Sergeant Mosby’s body into their vehicle.

“We searched through the dumpster,” Stan began. “No murder weapon, or anything else connected to Sergeant Mosby.”

“I want you to search all the dumpsters within half a mile.”

“Really?” Vivian asked.

Gibbs glared back at his probie agent. “What do you think?”

“On it, Boss,” said Stan. Turning to Vivian, he smiled and added, “You’re lighter. I’ll give you a boost.”

“You’re already wearing boots,” she pointed out.

“You should always have boots with you,” said Gibbs. “I think we have some waders in the truck. They may be appropriate.”

“That’s still a lot of dumpsters for two people to go through.”

“You can see if the cops can help if you want, or call out another team from NCIS. But if that knife is anywhere nearby, I want it found. Today!”

“Okay.” Glancing at her shoes, she imagined what they’d look like after a day of dumpster diving.

Gibbs nodded at the bloodstains on the pavement. “Did anyone get samples, yet?”

“Yes,” Stan replied, motioning toward a box of bagged samples. “I dusted the dumpster for prints. It’s close enough to the body that the killer could have touched it.”

“I’ll take what you have already collected to Abby,” Gibbs said as he tossed the keys to the MCRT truck to Stan. “I’ll catch a ride back with Ducky. I want the hotel staff fingerprinted.”

“On it. We’ll be sure we get them all for elimination purposes.”

“Stan.”

“Yeah?”

“Just because they work for the hotel, doesn’t mean one of them isn’t our killer. Keep your ears and eyes open.”

Stan nodded as he waved Vivian over.

Gibbs got into the passenger side of the ME van just before Gerald reached the door.

“I’ll just ride in back with the body,” Gerald said.

Gibbs nodded, and smiled.

As Ducky started up the vehicle, he asked, “Do you already have a feeling about this one, Jethro?”

“Not sure yet.”

“What is that famous gut telling you?”

Gibbs took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “I found out who was with him shortly before he died. He said Sergeant Mosby left his room around two a.m.”

“So he’s the last person who saw our victim alive?”

“Other than our killer.”

“Is he a suspect?”

“I don’t think so. His hands were clean. And he seemed honestly shocked and distressed when I told him Sergeant Mosby was dead.”

“But something about him troubles you?” Ducky asked as he took a turn.

“The man is a male escort. He said they’d had sex and the sergeant was headed home. To his wife and kids.”

“I see.”

“I’ll have to question his widow.”

“And ascertain whether or not she knew her husband was engaging the services of a male escort. I rarely envy the job you must do. I expect this will not be an easy day for you.”

“Probably not.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way back to the headquarters building. Once they had arrived, Gibbs gathered his samples to take to Abby. “Let me know what you find, Duck.”

“I will call you as soon as I find anything pertinent to your investigation,” Ducky said as he joined Jackson at the rear of the van, ready to unload the body.

Gibbs’ next stop was Abby’s lab, where he dropped off the tote of samples. “Can you do your computer thing and find me any information on Sergeant Marcus Mosby’s wife and kids? And how fast can you ID these prints?”

Abby took a look at the card he handed her, safely tucked into a plastic bag. “Suspect or deceased?”

“Deceased. I want to make sure his prints match the IDs found on the body before I talk to his wife.”

“That would be embarrassing to tell her he’s dead, then find out it’s a case of mistaken identity.”

“How long, Abs?”

Abby scanned the prints in as she spoke. “Not long if they match. The prints are clear and you gave me a name. So what happened to Staff Sergeant Mosby?”

“He was found stabbed to death behind a hotel. I found out he’d been with an escort just before he was killed.”

“Kinky.”

“A male escort.”

“Very kinky.” As Abby was cutting open evidence packets, her computer dinged. “We have a hit, Gibbs. Those prints do indeed belong to Staff Sergeant Marcus Mosby.”

Gibbs leaned over to kiss her temple. “Thanks, Abs.”

“When the case is over, I want to hear more about this male escort,” she called as Gibbs walked away.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Gibbs drove to the Mosbys’ address and found it was a nice house in an established neighborhood. He knocked on the door, and flashed his badge when a woman in a peach-colored dress answered. “Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Are you Katherine Mosby?”

“Yes,” the woman confirmed as she toyed with her necklace.

“May I come in?”

“Certainly.”

Katherine Mosby showed Gibbs to the sofa in a sitting room at the front of the house.

“Are your children home?” 

“No. They’re at school.”

Gibbs nodded and took out his notepad. “I am truly sorry, Mrs. Mosby. Your husband, Staff Sergeant Marcus Mosby, was found dead this morning.”

Her hand immediately covered her mouth as she gasped. “No! He can’t be. What about our kids? What do I tell our children? Are you sure it’s him?”

“Yes, ma’am, we’re certain. I am terribly sorry. We believe he was murdered. I understand this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you some questions. When was the last time you saw your husband?”

Katherine turned her head, looking at the family pictures on the mantel. Her hand trembled as she laced her fingers. After a few moments, she began shaking her head and softly said, “It can’t be true.”

“Mrs. Mosby?”

“I’m sorry. It’s such a shock.”

“I understand. We need to get a timeline together so we can find out who did this to him. Can you tell me when you last saw your husband?”

“Yesterday morning. I made him breakfast and he left for work.”

“Did you notice he didn’t come home last night?”

“Not until this morning. I saw his car wasn’t in the garage and I didn’t hear anything from his room. He didn’t come down for breakfast this morning.”

“Was it normal for him to come home late, or not come home at all?”

“Agent Gibbs, I’m sure you will get around to asking, so I’m just going to tell you up front. Marcus and I have separate bedrooms. We have for several years. We’ve stayed together for the sake of our children, and he feels obliged to care for me.”

“You don’t hold a job outside of the home?”

“I’ve always been a Marine wife. We spent years moving from post to post. They said this would be a permanent assignment. It was my dream to be able to buy a home and offer a more stable lifestyle to our children.”

“And you don’t keep track of when Marcus comes home?”

“We live separate lives. I still cook and clean, while he pays the bills, but we don’t have much to say to each other. He travels on business, so it is not unusual for him to not come home for a night or two.”

“He doesn’t tell you?”

“Not always. He calls me in the afternoon if he plans to be home for dinner, but he spends a lot of time at work and often works late. He has many friends and business acquaintances. It’s not unusual for him to go out to dinner or a bar with someone from work. He prefers their companionship to mine.”

“Did you know he was seeing an escort?”

Katherine swallowed deeply and looked down to the floor. “He never discussed it with me, but he seemed to spend a lot of money. When I asked, he said he liked to pick up the tab when he took people out to dinner or to a play or a sports game. We argued about how much money he spent. I told him he didn’t need to pick up the bill on everything. That he should allow others to pay their share. He just said it was business and that it was his money to spend.”

“Did you know your husband was gay?”

Nodding slowly, she admitted, “Yes. He told me.” Reaching for a Kleenex, she patted her tears dry. “Do you think he was killed because he was gay?”

“It’s too soon to tell. We’ve only just begun to investigate. We’re not ruling anything out at this point. Do you know of anyone who might want to harm your husband?”

“No, of course not. We had our differences, but Marcus was a good, hardworking man.”

“I have to ask, where were you between midnight and three this morning?”

“I was here, sleeping.”

“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”

“My kids know I was home.”

“Do you have your own car?”

“Yes. It’s in the garage if you’d like to see it.”

“I would.”

Katherine rose from the sofa and led the way to the garage, where Gibbs saw the white Cadillac and wrote down the license plate number. “Thank you, Mrs. Mosby. We’ll be in touch. This is my card. You can call me if you think of anything else that may be pertinent, or if you have any questions.”

“Agent Gibbs?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you need me to identify Marcus’ body?”

“No, ma’am. We identified him by his fingerprints. I am truly sorry.”

“When will they release his body?”

“Our Medical Examiner will notify you once he has completed his autopsy and is ready to release the body.”

“Thank you, Agent Gibbs.”

Gibbs nodded, closed his notepad and walked back to his sedan.

~*~*~*~*~ 

A week later, they were still working on the Mosby case when another call came in. Gibbs hung up his phone and called out to his team, “Grab your gear.”

Minutes later, they were in the MCRT truck, and headed across town. As usual, Gibbs was driving with Stan riding shotgun and Vivian sitting between them.

“What’s the case, Boss?” Stan asked.

“First Lieutenant was found stabbed in an alleyway.”

“Do you think it’s related to the Mosby case?”

“Could be. Same alleyway.”

“Geez, Boss. That means we have a serial killer on our hands. One going after Marines.”

“Ya think?”

“Don’t you?”

“I’d like to see the evidence first, before I go jumping to conclusions,” Gibbs said.

A few minutes later, they arrived in the alleyway. 

Detective Turner nodded to Gibbs. “Special Agent Gibbs, we have to stop meeting like this.”

“Does this look like the same guy that killed Mosby?” asked Gibbs.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. The ID says this is First Lieutenant Clayton Barber. He was stabbed twice in the gut and bled out quickly. Whoever the killer is, they know exactly where to strike.”

“Defensive wounds?”

The detective shook his head. “Both Mosby and Barber were attacked from the front, but neither one looked like they tried to put up any sort of a fight.”

“Maybe they knew their killer.”

“Or their killer doesn’t appear threatening. Since these men are trained Marines, I’d think they’d put up a fight if they saw anything threatening coming at them.”

“You would think. Thank you, Detective, we’ll take it from here,” said Gibbs as he waved his team to the scene. “Ducky’s on the way. You guys get started down here. I have someone I need to talk to.”

Minutes later, Gibbs knocked on door nine twenty-seven. Then he knocked again, louder. “Agent Gibbs, NCIS.”

Moments later, he heard the security lock being disengaged, then watched as the door slowly opened. Once again, a very tired Anthony DiNozzo stood before him in a loosely belted robe.

“Agent Gibbs. More questions? Is it too much to ask that we meet later on? I’ve had a couple late nights and I haven’t been sleeping well since Marcus’ death.”

Gibbs pushed his way into the room. “We’ll talk now.” Before taking a seat, Gibbs took Tony’s hands into his own and turned them over, checking them for signs of cuts or blood. The skin was soft to the touch and the nails were manicured. “I’d like to see your bathrooms. Let’s start with the one in your bedroom.”

Tony tugged at his belt tightening it. “Sure, right this way.”

Gibbs followed him through the master bedroom, noticing the sheets on the king-sized bed were askew. “Did you have company last night, Mr. DiNozzo?”

“Yeah,” Tony replied sleepily. “Occupational hazard, you could say.”

“First Lieutenant Clayton Barber?”

Tony’s eyes suddenly opened wide. “Yes. He goes by Clay.”

Gibbs nodded. After pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he took a good look at the sink and the shower, then the towels in the bathroom. When he returned to the bedroom, he noticed the jetted tub in the bedroom and checked the towels hanging nearby.

Sitting on the bed, Tony pleaded, “Please, don’t tell me Clay was hurt.”

“Murdered. Stabbed in the gut, right behind the hotel. Just like Mosby,” Gibbs said. “And they had a couple things in common. Both were Marines, and they were both seeing you.” Satisfied with his inspection of the bathroom and towels,  
Gibbs nodded toward the bedroom door. “Why don’t you have a seat on the couch while I check the sinks in the other room?”

“You don’t seriously think I was involved with this, do you?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. You’re connected whether you know it or not.”

“You can search my whole room. I have a couple knives in the kitchen. You can check them. I didn’t kill anyone. It wouldn’t make sense. Why would I kill my own clients? Losing them puts a damper on my income.”

Tony took a seat on the sofa while Gibbs checked the other bathroom and the kitchen. He bagged up the knives he found. “Our forensics scientist can clear these pretty quickly if they weren’t involved.”

Tony looked noticeably pale. “If any of those is a murder weapon, I don’t want it back.”

Gibbs continued searching, checking for any sign of blood or a weapon, but finding nothing. Finally, he took a seat in the chair near the sofa, pulled off the latex gloves and shoved them into his pocket.

“Tell me about Clay. Was he also married?”

“Yes. He has three young children. His wife cheats on him, so he cheats on her.”

“It doesn’t bother you to be involved with married men?”

“Am I on trial here?” Tony asked. “No, they’re clients. Their marriages are their own business. A lot of clients like to talk because they feel they have no one else in their lives who listens to them. I listen.”

“Did Clay mention anyone he was having issues with? Anyone he was concerned about?”

“No. He loves being a Marine. He loves his wife, too. He doesn’t want a divorce. He just wishes he could be the man she loved so she wasn’t out cheating on him. She won’t divorce him either, because she likes the perks of being a Marine’s wife.”

“But he’s cheating with a man?”

“He doesn’t see it as cheating so much. He loves his wife and doesn’t want another woman. And if she ever asks if he’s been with another woman, he can honestly say no. Some people just need someone to talk to. Some nights we didn’t even have sex.”

“How about last night?”

“I gave him a blow job. He left sometime between eleven and midnight.”

“Mr. DiNozzo…”

“Please, call me Tony.”

“Do you have any more clients who are Marines or Naval officers?”

“Yeah. A few. Sometimes I get clients by word of mouth.”

“Someone who might not want to get caught with another man might feel it’s safer to be with an escort?”

“Yeah. I’m very discreet. It would kill my business if I go blabbing my clients’ secrets all over the Hill.”

“If there’s anything you think of that could be pertinent to my case, please call me. I can be discreet, too,” said Gibbs.

“There’s nothing. Really. Marcus and Clay were both nice guys with troubled marriages. They both just needed someone to listen to them and provide a little sexual gratification now and then.”

“I’ll need a list of all your clients who are either in the Marines or the Navy.”

Tony looked at Gibbs in disbelief. “You don’t honestly expect me to hand over my little black book, do you?”

“Do I need to get a warrant? Someone is out there murdering your clients who are Marines. He’s not going to stop until we stop him. I intend to do everything I can to make sure he doesn’t kill anyone else.”

Tony nodded slowly, then picked up his cell phone. “Here are seven more names. Some I only see once every month or two. A couple are currently out of town. I see them when they’re in port. I don’t know the occupations of all of my clientele. I can’t guarantee more of them don’t have ties to the armed forces.”

Gibbs scribbled the names down into his notepad. “Thank you, Tony. If I need anything else, I’ll be in touch. You should be careful, too. It could be a jealous client who doesn’t like you seeing other men.”

“You think they’re after me?”

“It’s very possible. I suggest you watch your back.”

Tony swallowed deeply and nodded. Gibbs could tell he was running names through his mind, wondering if any of them could be the killer or if any others were in danger.

“I can’t tell you how to conduct your business, but you might want to be extremely careful with any male clients, especially those in the military. If you need to talk to me, or you think of anything else, call me any time.”


	3. A Date With An Escort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As they were driving back to headquarters, Stan looked over to Gibbs and mentioned, “We could use some help on this one.”

“Help?” Gibbs asked.

“We know who the victims are, but not a clue who is murdering them. Having another agent on the case might help us solve it faster.”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “Call down and see if you can get someone TAD to the team.”

That afternoon, a young agent arrived in the office, wearing a suit and tie. “I’m looking for Special Agent Gibbs,” he asked, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Stan pointed to Gibbs’ desk. “Over there.”

Gibbs looked up as the young agent approached. “Yeah?”

“I’m Timothy McGee. They temporarily reassigned me to your team to assist on a murder case.”

“Take that desk over there. Stan is my senior field agent. You can answer to him when I’m not around. Stan, I’m going to talk to the director. Give Timothy McGee something to do.”

“On it, Boss.”

Stan approached the desk as Tim was getting settled in. He began catching him up on the case as Gibbs turned the corner and started up the stairs to meet with Director Morrow. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Tim asked.

Stan glanced up the stairs. “I doubt it. He’s probably just giving the director a progress report. Not that there’s much to report at the moment. That’s Viv over there, also on the team. What we have is a male escort whose Marine clients are getting stabbed to death after they see him.”

“A male escort?”

“Yeah. Like a high class prostitute.”

“But you said male?” Tim asked again.

“Did you pass your FLETC classes, kid? There are a lot of male escorts in the world. In this case, his name is Tony DiNozzo, but he goes by Tony Del Gato to his clients.”

“I just always think of prostitutes as being women.”

“Where there’s an opportunity, someone will make it their business.”

“I see.”

“The murder weapon hasn’t been found yet, but we’re sure it’s the same killer in both of our cases. We need to catch him before he kills again,” Stan explained. “What we need you to start on is searching for similar crimes. We need to find out if there are more than two victims.”

“Can I ask a question, sir?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“If most prostitutes are female, but this one is male, is it possible our killer is a female, even though most murderers are male? Or is there something that rules out a female as being our suspect?”

Stan nodded his head. “That is thinking outside of the box, Tim. I didn’t even think about the killer being a female. No, we have nothing that tells us whether the killer is male or female, although statistics point to a male.”

Tim nodded as he typed on the keyboard. “I won’t rule out any females at this point.”

“Do a good job and I’ll talk to Gibbs about keeping you around.” After patting Tim’s shoulder, Stan returned to his own desk.

Tim’s fingers stilled momentarily. “Do you mean that? I really want to be a field agent.”

“Helps us track down this killer and we’ll see.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

Upstairs Gibbs walked into Tom Morrow’s office to give his update. 

“We need to catch this bastard, Gibbs,” Director Morrow said. “He’s not going to stop at two. He’s already killing a week apart. It’s only a matter of time before he starts accelerating that time schedule.”

“Unless he has a job that makes certain days and times easier for him. We’ll get him. I’ve asked the escort involved to put off any of his Marine or Navy clients.”

“Is that wise?”

“They’re at risk. I can’t put another one out there as bait. I have a plan.”

“Care to share?” 

Gibbs nodded and smiled. “The escort is about to get a new client. A Marine going through a divorce, and looking for a little company.”

“You?”

“Yes. And unlike Marcus Mosby and Clay Baker, I intend to be fully armed if I meet up with the killer.”

“Make sure you have backup on this one. I don’t want to get a call that you’ve been stabbed in the early hours of the morning.”

Standing up, Gibbs took a deep breath, “I will do my best not to inconvenience you, Sir.”

His next stop was Abby’s lab for new IDs. “Hey Abs, I need a full background, in case they check. Unhappy marriage and we’re separated.”

“Kids?”

“Sure. Give me a couple, ten and thirteen.”

“It’s a shame about their families,” said Abby as she began creating a background. “Do you want to use Stephanie for your wife’s name? It would be easy to remember.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I can have you assigned to the Pentagon. There are so many people there and security is tough to get into. They won’t be able to get much, but I will leave enough of a trail to make it believable. I’ll have you set up in no time. I also pulled the driver’s license for one Anthony DiNozzo. He’s hot. Did you know he’s a junior?”

“A junior what?”

“Named after his dad. I got another hit and figured he was a little too old to be our escort, plus he has a New York state license. Then I found your boy toy here in DC.”

“Did you background him?”

“I thought he wasn’t a suspect,” Abby noted.

“He’s not. I know you like to be thorough.”

“He grew up fairly wealthy, and then had a falling out with his father when he went to Ohio State on an athletic scholarship. After a knee injury sidelined his sports career, he started spending more time on his hobby of acting. He did a little modeling, too.”

“Really?” Gibbs asked. 

Abby smiled broadly. “Bet you don’t know what he ended up majoring in after the knee problem.” 

“Acting?”

“Nope. He has a degree in criminal justice. He graduated from a police academy and worked as an officer in Peoria, Illinois, for a couple years.”

Gibbs closed in on her computer. “Are you sure it’s the same guy?”

“Yes. I even found a picture of him in uniform. Cute, huh?”

“What the hell is he doing working in DC as a male escort?”

Abby clicked through a couple screens and went back to creating Gibbs’ new ID. “You’d have to ask him. But he grew up near Manhattan, so maybe Peoria was too much of a laid back snooze for him.”

Gibbs waited in the lab until Abby gave him IDs for Gunnery Sergeant Jerry Graham. “Thanks, Abs. My kids are Donald and Diane?”

“Names you won’t forget. Good luck with your sexy male escort, Gibbs. I want a full report on your date afterwards.”

“Not likely,” he said as took the IDs. He pressed a quick kiss on Abby’s temple before leaving her lab.

Gibbs went back down to the bullpen and filled his team in on the new operation. “I want you guys here working the case. The director is sending Miller and Balboa to back me up at the hotel. They’ll be posing as a husband and wife staying there on vacation.”

Stan spoke up, “I’d feel better if I was down there watching your six.”

“I’m hoping our suspect won’t recognize me. I’m afraid if you and Viv are seen there, the suspect might catch on. If you need to contact me, send McGee. He hasn’t been to the crime scene yet.”

“Abby could set him up as a hotel employee,” suggested Stan.

“That’s a good idea. McGee, have Abby set you up as a hotel employee, maybe a maintenance man or a bellboy, so you can move throughout the hotel without being noticed.”

“Okay. Where do I find Abby?” Tim asked.

Gibbs crooked his finger and led the way back to Abby’s lab. “Follow me.”

“Hey, Boss!” Stan called after him.

Gibbs turned around, “Yeah?”

“McGee had a thought.”

“Care to share?”

“We shouldn’t assume the killer is a man. What if it’s a jealous woman?”

Cocking his head, Gibbs thought about the notion. “That’s certainly a possibility. Ducky should be able to give us an approximate height of the killer to narrow down our suspect pool.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

When Gibbs was alone that afternoon, he pulled out Tony’s card and punched in the phone number. “Tony, I got your name and number from a friend. I’d like to set up an appointment with you. I’d like to pick you up outside of the Grand Cheshire, maybe go for a drive and talk.”

“Sure, what’s your name?”

“Gunnery Sergeant Jerry Graham.”

“I’m really booked right now. Maybe you can give me your number and I can call you back when I have an opening?”

“Tony, I know what’s going on and I’m not concerned about it. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Really? Who was your friend that recommended my services?”

“I’ll give you two names. Marcus Mosby and Clay Barber. Both nice guys with marital problems. That’s my issue, too, Tony. I’m a nice guy with marital problems. I think you can help me out. I’d like to see you tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready by seven. You know my rates?”

“I can cover it.”

“Don’t dress in uniform, okay?” Tony requested. “Pull up out front and tell the doorman you’re there to pick me up.”

“Sure. I’ll see you tonight.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

Gibbs left the office early, going home to get some rest in. It was still daylight outside, so he pulled the blanket over his head. Stan called him at five-thirty.

“Rise and shine, Boss. Time to get ready for your date.”

“Thanks, Stan.” Gibbs closed his flip phone and went upstairs. He took a quick shower and dressed in a dark suit. He was using a sedan from the motor pool, but had Abby switch the plates and made them registered to his new persona.

He rolled up to the hotel at exactly seven o’clock. The doorman came over to his window. “Are you picking up or in need of a valet, sir?”

“Picking up Tony Del Gato.”

“Yes, sir. He’s in the lobby. I will let him know that you’re here for him.”

“Thank you.”

A minute later, Tony emerged from the hotel, sporting a designer suit and wearing sunglasses. He thrust a bill into the doorman’s hand as the man opened the car’s passenger door.

“Jerry Graham?” Tony questioned. A moment later, he realized who was in the car with him, and asked, “Gibbs? What are you doing?”

“It might appear strange if you suddenly stop dating all Marines, so I’m your new client.”

“You’re using yourself as bait to draw this guy out?”

“That’s sort of the plan. I wanted to meet you tonight just to get you read in. You can’t tell anyone who I truly am. The killer could be anyone. It could be a hotel employee or another one of your clients. I really need your cooperation so we can catch this guy.”

“I want him caught, too, Gibbs. He’s literally killing my business.”

“We’re not sure it’s a man. Could be a woman. Our ME believes the murderer to be under six feet tall, and likely five-six, to five-ten.”

“Interesting. I hadn’t even considered a woman could be the killer.”

Gibbs drove to a park and turned off the engine. “What can you tell me about the Peoria PD?”

Tony chuckled. “What do you want to know? Small town with a casino. Not much crime. A few burglaries, a little problem with drugs and prostitutes.”

“Why did you quit law enforcement?”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know. I missed the big city and designer suits. Small town life just wasn’t for me.”

“I come from a town smaller than Peoria. Stillwater, Pennsylvania. I miss it nearly every day.”

“Bet there isn’t much crime there.”

“One sheriff and a couple deputies.”

“Wow. That is small.”

“Why do you bring clients back to your room at the hotel?”

“In most cases, we can’t go to their place. Hotels cost money. My rates are high enough, so I offer the room as part of the package deal. The hotel maids change my sheets whenever I ask.”

“Do you ask a lot?”

“Whenever I have clients. I don’t want one to come to bed and smell someone else’s perfume or cologne.”

“That could cause problems. Do you have any clients who are the jealous types?”

“Not really. They all know I have other clients. What I do has a lot to do with illusion. They want to believe what they have with me is special, yet they all have to set appointments.”

“No one has a standing appointment with you?”

Tony shook his head. “The boss doesn’t like that. They can book me a week ahead so if they’re with me they can book the same time and date for the following week, but it sucks when you have a regular who misses an appointment.”

“You have a boss?” Gibbs asked. “I thought you were self-employed.”

“I work for an escort service. It’s legit and everything. I can even take credit cards. As long as you don’t mind the escort service charge showing up on your bill and having to explain it to someone else. It’s called International Delights. The service is owned, and I do have a boss I answer to. He’s an Israeli named Ari Haswari. I get the feeling there are multiple owners, but he runs things.”

“Israeli? Is he here legally?”

“Yes, he’s Israeli, at least that’s what he tells people. I have no idea if he is here legally or not. I always assumed he was. They have a lot of different escorts. They like to push me as Italian. They call me Big D, as a nickname.”

“Why use an alias? DiNozzo sounds Italian, why go with Del Gato?”

“If I ever get out of this line of work, I’d hate for anyone to connect my real last name to the service.”

“And they set up your appointments?”

“Sometimes. I can set my own. At the end of the day, they keep track of how many guests I have and they tell me how much I owe them.”

“Do your clients usually expect sex?”

“Not always. I do some strictly escort service appointments, where I attend a party, a show or a convention with someone who doesn’t want to go alone. Some of what I do is to take wealthy widows out dancing, or to dinner and a movie. There are a lot of lonely people out there. Some with quite a bit of money.”

“But there are extras available?”

“Yeah. There are flat rates for the escort service. We have hourly rates, or evening rates. And then there’s a very special overnight rate.”

“And the client pays for dinners, shows or anything else?”

“Yeah. They pay for my time and anything else.”

“But sometimes you just talk?”

“A lot of people just want to talk. They just want someone who will listen to them and make them feel special.”

“And if a client wants sex, it costs extra?”

“Yeah, it is more.”

“How does your boss know if you have sex, or if you’re just talking?”

“The owners of the service are not nice people, especially if you double cross them. For one thing, we have quotas. We’re expected to make a certain amount of money. If I don’t have sex, I wouldn’t make enough to cover my hotel and food. At first you want to make a lot to make them happy. Then you have to make a lot, because if your numbers take a tumble, there are consequences.”

“What sort of consequences?”

Tony removed his sunglasses and turned to Gibbs.

Gibbs had noticed the cut on Tony’s lip before, but now he could see the bruising around one of Tony’s eyes. He reached over to cup Tony’s chin. “Are you okay?”

Tony replaced his sunglasses. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I came up a little short since I’m trying to cut out my Marines. The boss wasn’t happy about it. He thought I was holding back.”

“Does your boss know about the murders?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is money.”

“I don’t want you to tell your boss, or anyone else, that I’m an agent. Just tell them you have a new client. Okay?”

“I can’t believe that he’d be killing off my clients. It wouldn’t make sense,” said Tony.

“I don’t think he’s going to appreciate your cooperation with NCIS. It may make him a little nervous knowing you’re spending time with an agent instead of a real client. We will pay for your time, of course, to keep up the illusion.”

“You can do that?”

“Part of an undercover op. Just be sure you’re calling me Gunnery Sergeant Jerry Graham. I’m separated from my wife, Stephanie, and we have two children, thirteen-year-old Diane and ten-year-old Donald.”

“Is any of that true?”

Gibbs smiled. “I am going through a divorce from my wife, Stephanie. No kids. I’d like to see you on a weekly basis, Tony. Until we solve these cases.”

Tony smiled back at Gibbs. “And after the cases are solved?”

Gibbs started the car. “Do you bring clients upstairs on your first meeting?”

“Not often, but sometimes.”

“We had your suite swept for bugs. It’s clean.”

“How did you get into my suite?” Tony asked.

“We have an agent posing as a maintenance man at the hotel.”

“I guess I might be having more maintenance calls than usual.” 

“Clogged toilets are a bitch,” Gibbs agreed.

“Since you are paying for my time, we can talk about your wife if you want,” offered Tony.

“No, I don’t think so.”


	4. One Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks went by without another murder of a Marine. The director called Gibbs to his office early in the morning, asking about the amount of money he was paying to meet with Tony.

“We have one lead in the case and that is Tony DiNozzo,” Gibbs firmly stated.

“Maybe the killer has left town and the murders have stopped.”

Gibbs shook his head. “I doubt it. We asked Tony not to see any of his Marine or Naval clientele for a while. That may have thrown the killer. But he’s not going to stop.”

“Have there been any similar civilian murders?”

“Our TAD agent is reviewing other murders in the area.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tim and Vivian were just arriving as Gibbs returned to his desk. “Find me something,” he demanded.

After firing up his computer, it didn’t take Tim long to uncover the recent stabbing death of a bank’s loan officer. “I started with active Marines and found no similar crimes. But I created an algorithm to alert me of any similar cases, and a case regarding the murder of Scott Woods just flagged. Yesterday afternoon, he was stabbed outside of the bank where he works, in a parking garage. And get this. He’s former Navy.” 

Gibbs stood and walked over to look at Tim’s screen and praised the young agent. “That’s good work, Tim. I need a full report on the victim. Get me a copy of any information you can find on his case.”

“The report is not finalized, Sir.”

“I don’t care, McGee. Get me whatever they have. Preliminaries. Anything.”

“It’s not much, but I’ll compile it and email it to you.”

Gibbs glared.

“He wants a paper file,” Vivian called across from the room.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Gibbs took Stan with him to talk to the detectives handling the Scott Woods case. After their meeting, Gibbs pulled out his phone and dialed Tony’s number. “I need to see you. Today. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Hours later, Gibbs met Tony at the hotel, this time dressed in his Marine uniform. As soon as they pulled away from the curb, he asked, “Was Scott Woods one of your clients?”

“Yeah. I had lunch with him yesterday. Don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me.”

“He was attacked in a parking garage as he was leaving work yesterday afternoon.”

“Did he make it?”

“No. Stabbed to death like the others.”

Tony ran his hand through his hair. “Why is someone targeting my clients?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know. Honestly.”

“Well, now he’s going for more than just your Marine clients. Who has your full client list?”

“The escort service. But if they kill my clients, they’re losing money.”

“I’m still not convinced this isn’t about you. We’re going to need your full list. Every name, not just the military men.”

“That’s my whole livelihood.”

“It could save a life. Could your father be involved?”

“He doesn’t know what I do for a living. He thinks I’m a struggling actor,” Tony insisted.

“Are you sure?”

“As far as I know.”

“I’m not convinced that you aren’t in danger.”

“I can’t stop seeing clients.”

“Could one of your clients have gotten your client list? Like, when you were in the bathroom?”

“They’d need the security code to my phone. But it’s possible they’ve seen me get into it. I guess.”

“It could be an existing client, someone who works at the hotel, or for the escort service. I want you to be very careful, Tony.”

“I know. And if I suspect anyone, I should call you immediately.”

“When is your day off?”

“Day off? I don’t get days off.”

“Ever?”

“No. We have to make our quota or face the consequences.”

“Do your clients ever take you out for a whole weekend?”

“Yeah, but that’s expensive. I can’t disappear for a couple days and come back with no money to hand over.”

“Can you quit?”

Tony shook his head. “It’s not that easy. As long as you’re making money, they don’t want to let you go.”

“How do they know if you’re spending time with friends or clients?”

“I have no friends. At least none that I keep in touch with. I’m only really allowed to hang out with people who pay for my time. They do watch us.”

“Do they know you’re working with us? How much do they know about the murders?”

“They know some. The murders have been on the news and in the paper. I didn’t tell them about you being undercover. They don’t know you’re an agent. I told them I was questioned by NCIS. We don’t get a lot of clients wanting to meet early in the morning. Ari wasn’t happy that I was questioned, but I told him if I didn’t talk to you at the hotel, you were going to take me to headquarters and keep me there all day. The company does have an attorney on a retainer. Ari rather I have him there when we speak. But I told him I wasn’t being charged with anything. I didn’t do this.”

After a short drive, they returned to the hotel. “It’s time that we’re seen together,” announced Gibbs. “With me in uniform. I want to draw this guy out.”

“Are you armed?”

“Yes. You have no need to worry about me. I thought we’d have dinner in the restaurant, then go back up to your room for a while.”

Tony nodded and directed Gibbs to a place to park in the adjoining garage. They entered the hotel by the front door, which was held open by the doorman. Tony led the way through the lobby to the restaurant. There was only a wall of planters separating the restaurant from the lobby. The bar was next door and just as visible for the front tables, although the light was dimmer. Tony noted that they had some booths in the back that would keep the patrons hidden from view if they were looking for discretion.

McGee was changing light bulbs in the lobby, then worked on an electrical outlet while Gibbs and Tony ate dinner. Gibbs surveyed the others who were in the restaurant and the lobby.

“What about her?” he asked. “Pretty girl, dark hair, dark eyes. She’s watching one of us. Not sure which one.”

Tony pretended to look at the fountain, then turned back to Gibbs. “That’s Ziva David. She’s security for the escort service.”

“Security?”

“Some patrons try to avoid paying or don’t want to leave when their time is up.”

“She doesn’t look very threatening.”

“I think that’s the point. She’s a weapons expert, former Israeli Mossad agent. Not that she needs weapons. She is a weapon; quite accomplished with the martial arts stuff.”

“She’s pretty enough to be an escort.”

“The service offers security as well. She has a good clientele of important politicians, and wealthy men who want a pretty woman on their arm and a little security, too.”

“Interesting. What is she doing hanging around here? You sleeping with her?”

“Most of us live in the hotel, so she’s probably waiting for a client. And I have slept with her. Once or twice. She asked. Employee perks. She’s not my type though. I’ve turned her down a few times when she’s gotten pushy and felt entitled. She’s a little strange in my opinion.”

“More escorts live here? Really? The hotel manager didn’t mention that.”

“He doesn’t want to advertise. We pay our bills and agree to be discreet. He looks the other way. The service rents several rooms from the hotel. Between all of their employees, they’ve rented out the entire ninth floor.”

“I wasn’t aware that any other hookers lived in the building. Why didn’t you tell me that before? Are you withholding information?”

“I honestly didn’t think anything about it.” Reaching for his water, he took a drink. “I’m not proud of being an escort. But it’s really my business, not yours.”

“You’re the center of these murders. Anything about you could be pertinent information. You tell me everything and I will decide what might be useful.”

“The people I work for are not nice people. If I say the wrong thing, it won’t go over well with them.”

“More black eyes and split lips?” Gibbs asked.

“Maybe.”

“Doesn’t that hurt business?”

“You’d be surprised how many people go for that sort of thing. Sometimes it’s a good sympathy getter and I make extra tips. Does it really make a difference that the escorts live in the hotel?”

“That makes it even easier for one of them to be the murderer.”

“It’s hard to think of one of my co-workers as a killer. I don’t know who it could be. We’re all just struggling to survive.”

“Do the other escorts know that I’m NCIS?”

“No. You asked me not to mention it, so I haven’t. They’d only know if they were up and saw you down at the crime scene or coming up to my room before. But I haven’t told anyone. And honestly, you do look different in a suit or uniform. You look good, Gibbs. Very handsome.”

“You said Ziva is strange. How?”

“I don’t know. She keeps her cards close to her chest. Lots of secrets and I get the sense she has ulterior motives, like she’s spying on people or something.” A shiver ran through Tony’s body. “I just don’t feel entirely comfortable around her.”

A couple minutes later, a handsome man sat beside Ziva in the lobby. The pair smiled as they chatted.

“Who’s that?” Gibbs asked.

“That’s Ari. They’re related, half-brother and sister. I think they have the same father, different mothers. They were raised together.”

“So it’s a family business? Could be why she feels entitled to whomever she wants.”

“I’m not sure who truly owns it, but I answer to Ari.”

“He’s handsome enough to be an escort. Did he work his way up to management?”

“He still takes on clients.”

“You said she was former Mossad.”

“I think Ari may be, too.”

“They could be gathering political information from their DC clients.”

“That’s very possible. I know Ziva has some very highly ranked politicos on her client list. Sometimes all it takes is a little booze to get people to talk.”

“Or sex.”

Gibbs nodded and smiled throughout their dinner. His mind was spinning, sorting through the new information, but he knew he had to be convincing in case the killer was watching. Tony appeared slightly nervous at first, but quickly composed himself into a charming dinner date. 

Despite being undercover, Gibbs enjoyed Tony’s company. He found himself trying to find an excuse to see Tony after the case was solved. There was something mesmerizing about the way his green eyes sparkled, and how his smile lit up the room. Candlelight highlighted his features in a most alluring way, and Gibbs was rather entranced by his companion.

They both requested their steak, medium-rare. Gibbs ordered a bottle of wine and picked up the check at the end of the meal. After he paid the bill with cash, the pair stepped into the elevator together and went up to Tony’s room.

~*~*~*~*~ 

“You’re paying for my time, Gibbs. If you want to talk about anything, I am a very good listener.”

“No need. I have my head screwed on straight.”

“It can’t be easy going through a divorce,” Tony said as he pulled out a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, offering one to Gibbs. “First marriage?”

Gibbs smiled and shook his head. “Fourth.”

“So you’ve been divorced before?”

“A couple times.”

“Any kids.”

“I had a daughter with my first wife. They were both killed in a car accident. After that, I keep trying, but none of them seem to stick.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I’m told that I am too focused on the job.”

“Are you?” Tony asked as he set his wineglass down.

“Maybe. I lead the Major Crimes Response Team at NCIS, so we’re always busy taking bad guys off the street. When I’m on a case, I am very focused until I find the suspect and take him down.”

“And I’ll bet you’re always on a case.”

“That is probably true,” Gibbs admitted.

“You took vacations with your wife and daughter, but now your only focus is your job, so you avoid taking your vacation time,” Tony surmised, using the profiler skills he acquired during his time as a police officer.

Gibbs thought for a moment before he replied. “Sometimes.”

“There are always going to be bad guys, whether you go on vacation or not.”

“It’s not like you take vacations either.”

“I would if I could.” 

“How did you get into the escort business?”

Tony he picked up his glass. After he took another sip, he bit his lip, then spoke softly. “I grew up with money and had a generous allowance for years. You get used to a certain lifestyle. When my dad cut me off, it was a difficult time for me. Reality punched me right in the face. I started gambling. I thought if I could win enough money, I wouldn’t have to work, and I could live a pretty highfalutin’ lifestyle.”

“But you kept losing.”

“I did. I’d win enough to have a little hope, and then would lose even more. When I got into debt, I tried borrowing more money. I always believed I was just on the brink of winning,” said Tony.

“You borrowed from the wrong people.”

“Yes. I borrowed from the wrong people and they sold my debt to the escort service. At first, they assured me it was only escort work and I’d eventually pay off the debt and be released. But it isn’t working out like that. They pretty much say I’m paying off interest and the interest is high. I’m never going to be out of this business until they’re done with me. But it’s not all bad,” Tony divulged. “I have a nice place to live, I eat well. Some of my clients take me out to parties, restaurants, plays, concerts, and sporting events. I have nice clothing to wear.”

“But you’re trapped here. You can’t leave. You can’t even take a day off. And they force you to have sex.”

“It wasn’t like that at first. They told me it paid more money, so if I ever wanted to clear my debt, I should be open to it. Once they started booking me with clients who expected sex, it was like I couldn’t say no. They’d already paid for it. It’s not all bad. I’d do you for free.”

“Won’t they know?”

Tony shrugged. “Honestly, I’m starting to not care. You’re right. My life isn’t even my own anymore. And if I don’t bring in enough money, I get beaten. It’s a terrible life. I’m just fooling myself with the illusion of grandeur, but in reality, my life sucks. I like you, Gibbs. You’re easy to talk to. And handsome, too. I understand if you don’t want me. I can be had by anyone with a few hundred dollars.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re good looking and well educated. You’ve just gotten yourself into a bad situation. But you can get out of it.”

Tony shook his head and took another drink from his glass. “I am stuck like a rat in a cage.”

“What would happen if we arrested you?” Gibbs asked.

“They’d send an attorney to get me out. And then I’d owe them attorney fees on top of my gambling debt.”

“What if we fake your death? We could stage a scene and ID the body as yours.”

“And then what? I could never be seen again.”

“Move.”

Again Tony shook his head. “They’d find me. These people are connected worldwide. There’s nowhere I can hide. I’d never feel safe again.”

“Do you feel safe now?” asked Gibbs.

Tony reached out for Gibbs’ hand and intertwined their fingers. “I feel safe, with you,” Tony offered. After setting his own wineglass down, he reached for Gibbs’ glass and set it onto the coffee table, then leaned in for a kiss.

“I can’t afford to stay here all night,” Gibbs said softly. “My director is already riding my ass about how much money we’re spending.”

Tony kissed him again, and rubbed Gibbs’ arm. “I can cover. They can’t be watching every door, every minute.” 

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble if they see me.”

“Just leave early in the morning. They’ll never know. You look so damn hot in that uniform.”

Tony began popping the buttons on Gibbs’ jacket, then shirt, and rubbed his hand across Gibbs’ stomach. Leaning close, they kissed again.

Eventually, Tony stood up and offered his hand to Gibbs, then led the way to the bedroom and undressed. “I have plenty of extra hangars,” he offered. “I wouldn’t want your uniform to get wrinkled.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Gibbs mentioned as he undressed and hung up his clothing.

Tony took a long look, admiring the man standing naked before him, then took his hand and led him to the bed. “It’s been a long day and we’re both tired. If you rather just sleep, I’m good with that. But if you want more, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Gibbs climbed into the bed and under the sheets. Tony snuggled close, rubbing his hand across Gibbs’ chest and abs, before dropping lower and grasping his cock.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” Tony offered as he pumped Gibbs’ shaft.

Gibbs closed his eyes and spread his legs slightly. It had been a long time since he’d been touched so intimately. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

“At least you’re familiar with it,” Tony said as he continued pumping Gibbs’ shaft.


	5. Early In The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs awoke a couple hours later, feeling warm and sticky. After untangling himself from Tony’s arms, he walked into the bathroom, and turned on the water in the tiled shower stall. Checking the shelf, he noticed there were plenty of neatly folded, fluffy clean towels, and smiled. It didn’t take long to get hot water, and the pressure was impressive. 

Stepping into the stall, he closed his eyes and let the water run over his body. The shower door was soon fogged over from the steam. His thoughts wandered back to the night before, when Tony’s hands were roaming across his body. His cock hardened at the memory.

The glass door slid open, allowing in cooler air, and Tony.

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” he said as he pressed Gibbs against the wall. “I really enjoy being with you.” As the water continued raining down on them, Tony began nibbling at Gibbs’ neck, leaving brief kisses behind.

“Is that a line?” Gibbs asked.

Tony suddenly froze, then shook his head. “I’m off the clock. It isn’t a line. I don’t think of you as a customer. But if you want me to stop, just say the word.”

Gibbs studied Tony for a moment. There was truth in the green eyes that were focused right back at Gibbs. “No need to stop,” he nearly whispered.

Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs, hugging him tightly. “There’s something special about you. Usually, I just feel numb to it all, but you’re different. You can actually get my heart racing,” he said between dropping kisses on Gibbs’ chest. 

“What are we doing?”

Tony smiled, “You’ve been married. I’d like to think you’re somewhat familiar.”

“I’m a federal agent, and you’re a hooker. What are we doing?”

“Hooking up? Do you want to be with me, or not?” Tony asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Have you ever been with a man? Before last night?”

Gibbs smiled and shook his head. “No. But last night was pretty good. Maybe it was the wine. I thought a shower would clear my head.”

“Has it?”

Gibbs shook his head again, then looked down to his erect cock. “There’s something about you, too, Tony DiNozzo. I shouldn’t feel excited when you touch me, but it’s…I don’t know. _Amazing_?”

Tony dropped to his knees and licked Gibbs’ cock. “I’ll accept amazing.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed friends or boyfriends.”

“I’m not. Really. I mean, they don’t mind if we fool around with our co-workers. That’s considered practicing our trade. But they would not appreciate freebies.”

Gibbs sucked in a deep breath and braced his legs as he leaned against the tiled wall. “I can’t say no.”

Tony gave Gibbs’ shaft a few pumps, then rubbed his thumb over the tip. “You’re just about ready,” he said, just before wrapping his lips around the cock in front of him and sucking.

Gibbs placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders and resisted the temptation to thrust into Tony’s warm mouth. It didn’t take long before he climaxed. 

Tony stood up and pressed his body fully against Gibbs’, then gave him a long kiss. “You’re addictive. I wish I could spend all day getting to know you. Like this.”

“Naked and horny?” Gibbs asked.

“Yeah. I wish I could spend the whole day getting to know you, all naked and horny.”

“But I have to leave before anyone realizes that I spent the night.”

“It would be best for both of us,” agreed Tony.

After emerging from the shower, they dried off. Tony wrapped himself up in a robe and watched as Gibbs redressed in his uniform.

“You look so hot. I want to rip that uniform off of you, and lick you all over again,” Tony said. “As much as I want you to catch the asshole that is killing off my clients, I don’t want to lose the excuse to see you again.” 

Gibbs looked at his reflection in a mirror and combed his hair. “There are alternatives. You have a degree in criminal justice. You could get another job.”

Tony shook his head. “These people are connected. They are never going to let me go. And if they did, I can’t see myself back in some place like Peoria.”

“What if we take these people down, and I offer you a job at NCIS?”

“What? Gibbs, you are a crazy man! How do I explain going from Peoria cop to DC hooker?”

Gibbs chuckled. “I’d leave that off the resume if I were you. The hooker part. Heck, tell them you were traveling or studying. You said your dad has money, say you had enough to pay your bills for a while.”

“But now I’m broke and need a job?”

Gibbs walked over to the bed where Tony was sitting, cupped his cheek, and leaned in to kiss him. “I have a lot of pull at NCIS. My team has the best closure rate in the agency. If I approve someone, the director will hire them.”

“You’re going to put me on your team?” Tony asked.

“If you want go that route, I’d take you on.”

“How would we ever get any work done?”

“I’m all business at work. Remember?” 

“Aren’t you on the job right now?”

“I clocked out last night, too.” Gibbs straightened up and glanced at the jetted garden tub at the edge of the bedroom, on the wall shared with the bathroom. “Maybe we’ll take that for a spin one day and talk about your future,” he suggested.

“Nice, huh? And with the mirrored wall, you can see the television no matter where you’re sitting in the tub. I love soaking while watching movies. We can certainly give it a go one day. Plenty of room for two.”

“Not today. I better get out of here. And you could probably use some sleep before getting back to work.”

Tony nodded and glanced at the clock. It was almost four in the morning. “My heart isn’t in this anymore. The hooker part,” Tony confessed. “At first, it was kind of fun. I get tailored suits, limousine rides, meals at the best restaurants in town, exclusive clubs and parties. But it’s getting old. It leaves me empty. And thinking that these men may have been murdered because they were with me? That is really difficult to comprehend. I can’t imagine who is doing this. I would tell you if I did.”

“I know,” Gibbs said as he slipped on his shoes. “Think about the job offer. We can make that happen. I promise you that.”

Tony stood up and brushed a speck of dust off of Gibbs’ uniformed shoulder, then nodded to the door that led from the bedroom to the hallway. “You should use that door. I don’t ever use it.”

“This suite used to be two separate rooms?” 

“Yeah. Everyone knows that I use the other door.”

“It will make it less obvious that I’m leaving your place?”

Tony nodded. “The walls jut out between the doors. The further away someone is, the harder it is to determine which door someone came out of. To the left, there’s a staircase at the end of the hallway. If you don’t mind, you could use that to get to another floor and grab the elevator from there. Less chance you’ll be seen if you don’t stand around waiting for the elevator on this floor.”

“What’s the best way to get to the parking garage?”

“If you get off at the second floor, then take the stairway down to the first floor, you can avoid going through the lobby. It comes out in a hallway that goes to the garage.”

Gibbs nodded. Before opening the door, he peered out the peephole to make sure the immediate hallway was clear. Seeing no one there, he slipped out the door, which Tony closed and locked quietly. Gibbs made it to the exit door quickly and into the stairwell. 

He walked down a flight of stairs before taking the elevator to the second floor, where he got off and made a quick phone call. As he shoved his cell phone back into his pocket, he continued down the stairwell to the street level.

There was no one in the hallway that led to the garage, but he still walked swiftly, hoping that no one would see him leaving. Once he was in the garage, he put on his cover and walked to the garage elevator that took him to the level where he remembered parking the sedan.

He needed coffee. The wine had left his system, but he was tired. There wouldn’t be time for him to go home and get a couple more hours of sleep. A few cups of coffee would get him through the day. That and thinking of his time with Tony. He mused about having a fourth team member. Tony would be above Vivian, that was a given. But Stan was already the senior field agent. He was sharp, too. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out Gibbs’ interest in Tony went beyond his skills as an agent.

Memories flooded his mind; Tony’s incredible body pressed against him. Gibbs could still feel their skin touching, the sensation of Tony’s tongue running across his body, the hands that roamed freely. Gibbs took a deep breath and shook his head, allowing the images to dissipate and scatter. He had work to do; a crime to solve.

When he was still several yards from his car, he noticed someone leaning against it, concentrating on a cell phone.

“Ziva?”

The brunette looked up at him. “How do you know my name?”

Gibbs paused for a moment, then chuckled and dropped his eyes to the ground. “I saw you in the lobby and thought you were very beautiful. I asked my date if he knew you.”

“You were with Tony last night, yes? I remember. You had dinner and went upstairs. I did not know you were staying so late.”

Gibbs smiled as he closed in on his car. “It’s actually pretty early. And I do have a job to go to.”

The car doors unlocked as he walked past Ziva. It was a quick movement; a fast jab toward his stomach. Gibbs grabbed her wrist and got behind her, knocking the knife to the ground, then putting her into a headlock. 

With a sudden move, Ziva twisted out of his grasp and kicked him in the hip. Using his size to his advantage, he knocked her legs out from underneath her, and pushed her down hard. With her on the ground, he rapidly regained control, kneeling on top of her, as she continued to struggle with him. Miller and Balboa arrived seconds later, guns drawn. Gibbs was able to pull Ziva back to her feet and wrestled her against the car before handcuffing her. 

“Who is she?” Agent Brianna Miller asked, as she holstered her weapon. “We saw her in the lobby last night.”

Still gripping her arm tightly, he divulged, “Her name is Ziva David. Can you guys ride her in?”

Balboa nodded, his weapon still drawn and pointed at Ziva. “Pat her down, Bri.”

Miller stepped forward, pulling on a pair of latex gloves before searching Ziva and finding a second knife. “Did you know?” she asked, looking up at Gibbs.

Shaking his head, Gibbs said, “Tony gave me her name. He said she was security for the escort service, so I didn’t think too much about it when she seemed a little too interested in us. In him.”

Ziva muttered something in Hebrew as she glared at Gibbs.

“Do you speak the language, Gibbs?” Miller asked.

“No,” Gibbs admitted. “But I have a pretty good idea of what she meant.”

“You are a disgrace to the uniform you wear,” Ziva spat angrily. “You are only worthy of death.”

Gibbs flashed a crooked grin. “Yeah. I don’t need to know the language to understand this one.”

“Glad you thought to call us,” said Balboa.

“I did know I was leaving in the time frame of when the first two victims were murdered. Figured backup would be a good idea. And finding her leaning against my car did put me on high alert.”

“I guess our honeymoon is over,” Miller said to Balboa, as she directed Ziva across the garage to another dark sedan a few feet away. “We’ll meet you back at headquarters, Gibbs.”

Gibbs watched as Miller sat in the backseat with Ziva. Then he made two quick calls, asking Tim and Abby to meet him at the office. A minute later, he was following the other sedan on the way back to the NCIS building. His thoughts strayed back to Tony and he made a mental note to call him later in the day.

The NCIS headquarters was nearly deserted, except for security, cleaning personnel and a couple teams whose contacts were on different time zones. Miller and Balboa had escorted Ziva to the interrogation room, watching her while Gibbs went back to his desk. Thirty minutes later, McGee arrived.

“I’m here, Boss.”

“I can see that.”

“I’ll have the computer booted up in just a moment.”

“I need you to find anything you can about Ziva David. Israeli Citizen. Former Mossad officer.”

McGee’s fingers flew over the keyboards. “She is the daughter of Mossad’s director, Eli David.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell is she doing in the US, working as an escort?”

Tim tapped a few more keys. “If she’s on an undercover op, I probably couldn’t find it. Even if I did, I don’t read Hebrew. I’m sorry, we don’t have much on her.”

“How long has she been in the States?”

“She’s made several trips back and forth between Israel and the US. She may be providing security for Israeli citizens.”

“Or she may be spying on someone and reporting back. Could be setting up or running an op. Dig up what you can and get one of our agents who can translate Hebrew involved.”

Tim nodded. “How do I know who can do that?”

“Really, McGee? We have a Middle East desk. Find somebody. Should be about lunchtime in Tel Aviv. Someone from that team has to be in the building.”

Tim watched as Gibbs walked toward the elevator, then started a directory search. “On it, Boss.”

Minutes later Gibbs walked into the interrogation room. Ziva was still in handcuffs, her hair still in disarray from their physical encounter when he arrested her. 

“Ziva David,” he began as he dropped a file onto the table.

“I know my name. And, obviously, so do you.”

“I am Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”

“Congratulations.” Ziva looked him up and down. “You are very convincing as a Marine.”

“I served before I joined NCIS. Are you still with the Mossad?”

Ziva looked away, and didn’t respond.

“I can have someone call your father, the director.”

“That is not necessary.”

“I have my forensics scientist on her way in. She’s going to test your knives and I will bet she’s going to find traces of blood that is going to match our victims. No matter how well you’ve cleaned them, it’s nearly impossible to get every trace of blood off of a weapon.”

“You intend to charge me with a crime?”

“Yeah. Murder. Staff Sergeant Marcus Mosby, First Lieutenant Clayton Barber, and Scott Woods, a former petty officer. The banker threw us at first, but we discovered he served in the Navy, and was honorably discharged twelve years ago. How did you know?”

Ziva shifted in her seat. “Military men have a different bearing. They are easy to spot, if you know what to look for.”

“And they were all clients of Tony Del Gato’s.”

“They had no honor, these men. They were married, and sworn to protect their country, but they are out screwing a whore. A man whore.”

“A man whore who fascinates you. Tony told me he slept with you. But he’s turned you down. More than once. He prefers to be with a man.”

“He is confused. A real man would want a woman.”

“You thought you could turn him. When you couldn’t, you started killing his clients. What’s the end game? Kill off any man he’s with so he has to go back to women?”

“I am not saying another word until my lawyer gets here.”

Gibbs nodded, then grabbed his file and left the room. His next stop was Abby’s lab. “I need to know what you find on those knives.”

“They tested positive for human blood, Gibbs. It will be hours before we can verify the DNA to confirm,” she said. “Do you think you have the killer?”

“Yeah, I do. Now all we need to do is to prove it.”


	6. No Going Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs had left Agent Sabrina Herschal watching over Ziva in the interrogation room, as she was fluent in Hebrew. He was at his desk over an hour later when she called him.

“Gibbs,” he said into the phone.

“Ziva David’s brother and attorney have arrived. They are speaking in Hebrew.”

“Anything incriminating?”

“She seems to be mad at someone. She keeps saying he’ll pay, but she’s not identifying who _he_ is.”

“I have a pretty good idea. Thanks, Sabrina. Did she say anything about the murders?”

“No. We had to kill the sound while she’s speaking with her attorney.”

Once he hung up, he tried Tony’s cell phone. It went straight to voicemail. “That’s not good. Stan, Tim, let’s roll. Where the hell is Vivian?”

Stan shook his head. “No clue, Boss.”

“We’re not waiting.”

“What’s up?”

“We’re going to take Mr. DiNozzo into protective custody.”

Tim had barely closed the door of the car when Gibbs floored the accelerator and screeched the tires as they left the NCIS parking lot. Minutes later, they arrived outside the Grand Cheshire hotel. Stan and Tim were right on Gibbs’ heels as they raced to the elevator. Gibbs jabbed the button that took them to the ninth floor. 

Even in the hallway, they could clearly hear the sounds of a fight coming from one of the rooms. Gibbs wasted no time kicking in the door. Raising their guns, the three agents entered the room and found two men standing over Tony as he lie collapsed on the floor. It was obvious that Tony had taken a beating.

“Hands up! Federal agents,” Gibbs yelled, using his other hand to flash his badge. 

One of the men made a move into his jacket and Stan immediately fired. The man dropped to the floor, dead, with a gun in his hand. The other man gave up without making any threatening moves.

Tim stood his ground, still aiming his weapon as Stan put handcuffs on the surviving man and had him sit on one of the chairs. 

Gibbs knelt down beside Tony. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Tony held his side and struggled to get the words out. “I think I might need to go to the hospital.”

“Who are those guys?”

“Michael Rivkin and Elazar Chaikin. They’re muscle for the escort service.”

“More security?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“They’re the ones that gave you the black eye before?”

“Yeah. I think this might be worse. I’m having trouble breathing.”

“You may have some cracked ribs or internal injuries. We’ll get you checked out,” Gibbs offered. “Can you stand up? I can help you to the couch.”

“I rather just stay here. Look what you did to my door.”

Gibbs glanced across the room and saw the splintered remains. “You do have another one. And we’ll have someone patch that one up. No worries.”

Stan called for the police and the ambulance. “Not sure we can take this one, since none of them are Navy or Marines.”

Gibbs nodded. “I’m still taking Tony into protective custody as a witness in an ongoing NCIS investigation.”

“I wish you had done it a little earlier,” said Tony.

“Just got the intel that made me think you could be in danger.”

“What was that?”

Gibbs motioned for Tim to lower his weapon. “Maybe you could get a sheet or something from the other room,” he suggested, pointing to Rivkin’s body. “To cover him up.”

Tim appeared shaken, but holstered his weapon.

“You’re not going to puke are you, McGee?”

“No, Sir. It’s my first shooting. In the field. I’ve been on the firing range, but this is different.”

“McGee! Less babbling, and more covering up the body.”

Tim swallowed hard and started toward the bedroom. “Right.”

Gibbs turned back to Tony. “When I left this morning, I called my backup to meet me in the garage. As I approached my car, I saw someone leaning on it.”

“The killer?”

“I think so.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Gibbs smiled. “Me, too. It was Ziva.”

“Ziva? You think she’s the killer?”

“Yeah. She tried to stab me. We took her into custody and found a second knife on her.”

“She does like knives. She says they’re quieter than guns and never run out of ammo. It’s just difficult to think of someone you know as being a murderer.”

“I had someone from our Middle East team watch over her in interrogation and apparently she said a few things about some guy. I thought she might have meant you. When you didn’t answer your phone, I thought we’d better get here and check on you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Two police officers showed up and took Elazar into custody. The ambulance arrived a couple minutes later. Gibbs sat beside Tony as he was checked out.

“I’m going to tape up your ribs for now,” said one of the EMTs. “That should ease the pain a little bit while you’re transported. We’re going to take you to the hospital to be examined by a doctor. It’s probably a couple cracked ribs, along with a few scrapes and bruises.” 

Tony nodded.

“They’ll make sure you don’t have any internal damage, or a concussion,” Gibbs added.

“Not sure I can afford the bill,” Tony said softly.

Gibbs put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

The coroner soon arrived to pick up Rivkin’s body.

Gibbs looked over to Stan. “Make sure the door gets secured.”

“I called down to the front desk. They have someone coming up to look at it,” Stan replied. “I guess they’ll need to send up a cleaning crew, too.”

“Not until the police are done investigating. I’m going to the hospital with Tony,” Gibbs said as he tossed the keys to the sedan to Stan.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Gibbs called Ducky, asking him to meet them at the hospital to make sure Tony was okay, and so they’d have a ride after he was checked out.

Ducky was able to view the x-rays that had been taken. “Our young man has suffered three cracked ribs, and some bruising on his arms and neck. Most likely they restrained him and broke his ribs by either punching or kicking him. They apparently also attempted to strangle him. Manual strangulation is generally not as easy as people think it is, especially when one’s victim is strong and fighting back.”

“He’s going to be okay?” asked Gibbs.

“He’ll be fine.” Looking over to Tony, Ducky continued, “You’re going to have to take it easy for a few weeks while your ribs heal. The only thing they can do for ribs is to tape them up, but you should be able to do that yourself. No lifting anything until your ribs have healed up properly. That’s going to take four to six weeks.”

Tony nodded. “Can you drop me off back at the hotel?”

“You’re not going to be staying there for a while,” Gibbs said firmly.

“Why? That’s where I live.”

“Your hotel room is now a crime scene. Trust me, even if they’re done, you don’t want to stay there tonight. You are also currently under the protective custody of NCIS, and will be staying with me for a while.”

“What about my clothes and toiletries?”

“We can stop by your room and grab whatever you’ll need for a few days. Do you have suitcases?”

“I have a small suitcase and a garment bag.”

Ducky noted, “You will need to carry the bags, Jethro. Anthony is in no shape to be lifting anything until his ribs heal.”

Tony looked over to Gibbs with a curious smirk. “Jethro?”

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You can still call me Gibbs.”

They were able to get Tony’s prescription for pain pills filled at a pharmacy on the way to the hotel. Ducky waited in the car while Gibbs and Tony went up to the room to gather Tony’s things. Gibbs packed the bags while Tony told him what to bring.

Ducky dropped them off at the Navy Yard where Gibbs picked up his truck and drove Tony back to his house.

Once they arrived at his home, Gibbs placed the bags at the bottom of the staircase, and motioned Tony into the living room. “I’ll get some groceries tomorrow. I usually don’t keep much food in the house.”

Tony held his ribs as he sat on the couch. “When did you decide I was going to be staying here tonight?”

“Probably about the time I found you getting beat up in your room. I was definitely sure after you were released from the hospital. I’m not completely convinced you’re out of danger from that escort service.”

“There are already sheets, a blanket and a pillow next to your sofa,” Tony pointed out. “It’s like you were expecting me.”

“I usually sleep on the couch.”

“Oh. Why not sleep in the bedroom?”

Gibbs glanced toward the stairs. “Bad memories. You can sleep upstairs.”

“You’re not worried I’ll take a tumble down the staircase?”

“Are you that much of a klutz? The bathroom is upstairs. I thought it might be easier for you to manage.”

“Maybe we could both sleep upstairs,” Tony suggested. “That way, if I wake up disorientated, you’ll be there. Or if the Israelis come after me. I’d feel safer with you at my side.”

“The Israelis?”

“Yeah. The escort service is owned and run by a group of Israelis. Ari and whoever owns International Delights could be coming after me.”

“The company is Israeli owned and that’s why they have Ari, Ziva, Michael and Elazar on the payroll?”

“Yeah. I think they were all asked to leave Mossad for various reasons. But the escort service pays enough well, I guess. Or they’re in debt, too.”

“I’ve asked the Metro Vice Squad to open an investigation into the escort service and its employees. They’re taking everyone downtown for questioning and will be searching everyone’s rooms.”

“I guess that could put me out of a job.”

Gibbs gave Tony a light head slap. “I meant it when I said you should apply at NCIS. Fill out an application and I’ll talk to the director.”

“You’re really serious about that?”

“Yeah. You can stay here until your ribs heal up. I’ll bring an application home so we can get your paperwork started. You’re qualified and I want you on my team.”

“Thanks, Gibbs.”

“You’re not required to wear a suit, but if it makes you happy, you certainly can wear a suit to work as often as you like.”

“Would it make you happy?” Tony asked.

Gibbs smiled. “I’ll take your things upstairs.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

That weekend, Tony and Gibbs returned to the hotel to retrieve the rest of Tony’s things and his car. With Gibbs’ encouragement, Tony worked with the police during their investigation into the escort service.

One night Gibbs came home and found Tony in the basement, drinking bourbon alone. “This is one bad habit to get into,” he said. “You may start building boats next.”

“I’m celebrating, Gibbs. I am officially out of a job. The PD has enough evidence to shut down International Delights. A few of the players are getting deported back to Israel.”

Gibbs dropped a packet onto the workbench. “Your application. Fill it out and we’ll get it processed.”

Tony nodded toward the bottle. “I bought it and was hoping you’d celebrate with me.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Gibbs, as he grabbed an empty glass and wiped it out. “How are your ribs doing?”

“They’re getting a little better every day. Ducky’s been checking up on me and reminding me not to lift anything.”

“Ducky is a good man.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

Over the next two weeks, Tony also made a few trips into NCIS to be interviewed about Ziva.

Gibbs sat down at the table and sipped his coffee, before filling Tony in. “Abby matched the blood on Ziva’s knives to our murder victims. I’ll be testifying in court that she attempted to stab me. She’ll be in jail for the rest of her life.”

Tony released a deep sigh of relief. “I can live with that. I knew she’d killed people before, in the line of duty. At least she said she had. I’m not sure I truly believed her until now.”

“I believe it. There was no hesitation in the way she killed our three victims, or in the way she attacked me. She is a very well trained fighter.”

“I don’t know why she would have done it. It just made it harder for me to make my quotas.”

“She said they had no honor,” Gibbs disclosed.

“And the Middle East is known for honor killings.”

“You said you turned her down. Maybe she thought if she eliminated a few of your clients, you’d have time for her.”

“Like I said before, she was a little on the strange side. I always had an odd gut feeling whenever we were alone. Something that felt very wrong.”

Gibbs nodded knowingly. “Gut feelings are good instincts to have. The director has approved your application, by the way. Once you’re a hundred percent, you can take your qualifications and evaluations.”

“Sounds like a blast.”

“Stan put in for a transfer.”

“Your senior field agent? Why?”

“I think killing Rivkin bothered him. He did what he had to do. Rivkin was drawing his own weapon. It was him or one of us.”

“I would have gladly taken him out, if I’d had the chance,” Tony divulged. “He was one mean son of a bitch. He always called me _Meatball_ , never Tony. I think he really liked Ziva, which explains why he hated me.”

“He’ll never hurt you again,” Gibbs promised.

“So what is Stan going to do next?” asked Tony.

“He put in for an agent afloat assignment. One cop with a boatload of Navy personnel to police.”

“Less chance he’ll have to discharge his firearm.”

“He thought it was time he served on a ship and said he was looking forward to traveling. I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

“So it will be you, me, the young guy and Vivian?”

“Tim was on temporary duty,” Gibbs explained.

“How did he do?” 

“The kid is okay. He’s a little green, but has a much better handle on computer stuff than I do.”

Tony laughed easily. “I think he might have shit himself if he had to kill Rivkin.”

“I asked him about that, and he was questioned about the shooting. He said he hadn’t seen Rivkin’s weapon and thought he might have been reaching for ID.”

“Yeah, right. You hadn’t asked for ID and he didn’t even try to identify himself. I didn’t know if it was a gun or a knife, but I was sure he was reaching for some sort of weapon. I was trying to get in position to tackle him. But I’m glad Stan took the shot.”

“Tim will be a good agent in a couple years. I’d trade Vivian for him in a heartbeat. She’s not cut out to be a field agent.”

“But you can’t get rid of her?” Tony asked.

“The director is getting pressured to put more women in the field. If they’re willing to be field agents, it’s hard for him to pull them back. But I have a feeling when you join the team, she’s going to be pissed off enough to ask for that transfer herself.”

“You are one devious man, Gibbs.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

Having nowhere else to stay, Tony settled into Gibbs’ house. While Gibbs was at work, Tony managed some light housework as he healed. The pair grew closer and shared the bedroom.

While they were sitting at the breakfast table one day, Tony ventured to ask, “Do you think we could make this a permanent arrangement?”

Gibbs shifted the newspaper down and peered over his reading glasses. “You being with NCIS?”

Rolling his eyes, Tony replied, “Me living here. I meant it when I said it’s different with you. It feels right. Unless you’ve had your fling and want to go back to women.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, DiNozzo. But not nearly as bad as my last three wives.”

“So I can stay here?”

“Yeah.”

Tony rose so quickly that his chair fell to the floor as he rushed over to hug Gibbs. “You won’t regret it. This is going to be great.”

“Be careful what you ask for.”

“A job I’m interested in and a man who can get my heart racing again? I’ll take my chances. Unless you think this is a bad idea.”

Pushing back from the table, Gibbs folded the paper, then carried his coffee cup to the sink. When he turned around, he embraced Tony, holding him so they stood cheek to cheek. “I want you here.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

After he healed, Tony went through his evaluations and orientations. Once he passed everything, Gibbs led him to the desk where Stan once sat. “It’s all yours, Special Agent DiNozzo.”

Vivian looked up instantly. “Is that some sort of joke?”

Gibbs walked over to his desk and sat down. “Nope. He’s been hired and assigned to me.”

Standing up quickly, Vivian walked over to Gibbs’ desk. “He’s a hooker,” she said at a whisper.

“I’d keep that to myself if I were you.”

“Why?”

“He’s a former police officer, so he is qualified, and I’ve made him my new senior field agent. He’s now your boss, Viv. And I expect you to give him the respect he deserves. If you don’t, I’ll see you transferred out of DC before the day is through. And if you’re late one more time, I’m sidelining you from field duty.”

Tony sat at his desk, logging into the system and getting his desk in order. Vivian stood and glared at Gibbs.

“If you don’t have something to do, I will find something for you,” Gibbs said, without looking up.

“I can’t believe you made him a special agent, much less a senior field agent,” she muttered on her way back to her desk.

“Want to see my creds?” Tony offered with a smile. “I went to the police academy and everything.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

Two weeks after Tony was assigned to the team, Vivian requested a transfer.

“So now what, Gibbs? We have to find another chick for the team?”

“The agency prefers that you call them women, DiNozzo.”

“I guess until we find a qualified woman, it’s just going to be you and me.”

“Yeah, we’re going to be putting in a lot of hours together,” said Gibbs.

“I’m counting on it, Boss.”

 

~End~  
31 July 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be sure to let Rose_Malmaison know you enjoyed her art:  
>  **[Art post](http://rose-malmaison.livejournal.com/147407.html)**


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